


they came together

by amysintiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post-Prison, Reunion Sex, Smut, i hope the lord can forgive me, jake returns from prison and they boink that's really all there is to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-22 00:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13752186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amysintiago/pseuds/amysintiago
Summary: Jake returns from prison and gets his sex with foreplay.





	they came together

**Author's Note:**

> this was written solely because i think jake would shower after 8 gross weeks in prison before he got down and dirty with amy again...i just...don't even know
> 
> title from the iconic filmé they came together (2014) dir. David Wain starring Amy Poeher and Paul Rudd

They return to Brooklyn from South Carolina – now right up there in Jake’s top 2 list of Most Hated States – on the day of Jake’s release. One flight, one cab, and one elevator after the fact, Amy continues to hold his hand, continues to update him on everything he missed, and Jake continues to be mesmerised by the fact that he has his life back, _her_ back. He’s still trying to comprehend it. 

Lying in his bunk in his god-awful prison cell with only a cannibal and a photo of Amy for company, Jake had replayed the scenario of him returning to their apartment over and over again. He had thought about it a million different ways; maybe he’d still be wearing his fancy court suit, maybe it would be night-time and the streetlights outside would flood the apartment, maybe he’d be in his mid-forties and he’d be lamenting about his greying hair. Yet, his own mind could not prepare him for just how overwhelming it feels to actually, finally be home: how the furniture remains exactly as it was when he left, how his sneakers are neatly lined up on the shoe rack by the door, how the familiar smell of the apartment greets him immediately. He stills in the doorway trying to take it all in, and Amy doesn’t notice as she sets her handbag down, toes of her shoes, and carries on rambling her updates.

“So the bed sheets are fresh and I put the towel rail on so your towel’s warm since I figured you’d want to shower,” she says, unbuttoning her coat and hanging it up on its designated hook. “Oh, and I bought a six pack of orange soda and put it in the fridge.”

That gets Jake’s attention. He immediately steps towards her and kisses her, hard, his beard scratching her soft skin, and she giggles against his lips. He marvels at how easily they’ve fallen into their rhythm again because this is different, he thinks; unlike the nightmare of Florida, they’re stronger and they’re consciously building a life together now. Amy interrupts his thoughts by being the first to pull away, both hands reaching to tug at the collar of his leather jacket, her eyes wide with unadulterated joy and her cheeks flushed. 

“As I was saying; shower?” she suggests, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

“Right, right, shower,” he smiles at her, letting her take off his jacket - which he's so grateful she brought to him - so she can hang it up next to hers. He pads his way down the hall to their bedroom where he draws the curtains, switches on the bedside lamps, and pulls a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his drawers, and it’s all so heart-achingly, incomprehensibly normal.

Like the rest of the apartment, their small bathroom is exactly the same: Amy’s make up sits on the shelf, the cupboard is lined with various skincare products standing to military attention (ordered by brand and purpose, of course), and there’s a distinct lack of second-hand grey towels. Jake can hear Amy humming out of tune in the kitchen, and he smiles to himself as he strips and turns on the hot water; god, he really wants to kiss her again. When the water hits his skin, he thinks back to how just twenty-four hours ago, he was showering in a gross, uncomfortably public prison shower, and there and then he vows that Amy will be the only person to see him naked for as long as he lives. (He made separate vow to himself, to never to leave her for months on end again, a long time ago.) 

Jake’s quite content revelling under the endless hot water with no one yelling at him to adhere to a strict routine and with soap that categorically does not contain meth when he remembers that Amy is actually _for realz_ in the next room; she’s still waiting for him. At that thought, he turns off the shower, towel drying himself and his hair before putting on his sweats, brushing his teeth with the electric toothbrush Amy got him for Christmas and actually flossing because he now knows that flossing is a _privilege_. He contemplates shaving but quickly decides to leave that for later for he has more pressing matters, namely a girlfriend to hug and kiss and be with, for the moment.

“Hey,” he says as he enters the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her from behind and dropping a peck to her exposed neck. 

“Mm, you smell like you again,” she inhales his scent approvingly, before turning round in his arms. “You want to order pizza? Watch Die Hard?”

“I want you.” Jake pulls her body closer to his as he angles to kiss her. He’s slightly proud of himself for dropping such a smooth line, but not enough to stop him from leaning back and quickly confirming with a grin, “Then pizza and Die Hard.” Amy rolls her eyes at him, at the familiarity of it all, and soon her right arm is snaking round his shoulders and her left hand is finding his cheek to ground him against her as she kisses him. They’re finally in private, so Jake deepens the kiss and, within minutes, their breathing is heavy as they fervidly reacquaint themselves.

“Y’know,” he murmurs against her lips, “I’m totally going to die hard if we don’t do this right now.” There’s a beat, before Amy pulls away slightly and Jake’s face contorts to match her grimace upon realising what he just said.

“Oh babe, your flirting has really gone downhill.” 

“Shut up, it’s been over eight weeks,” Jake immediately retorts, going in to kiss the teasing smile off her face. One hand holds her waist, while the other blindly reaches for the top button of her flowery blouse; he loves Amy’s tendency to wear blouses if only for the fact that he has the pleasure of unbuttoning them. He crowds her against the kitchen counter and is working on undoing the fourth button down when she interrupts him by pulling away from his lips and placing her hand over his. He immediately stills to see if she’s okay and Amy’s heart flutters a little at the concern flooding his face.

“I, uh - I’ve thought about this way too much for it to be over on the counter,” she explains breathily. “Bedroom, babe.” Amy takes his hand and he lets her lead him the short distance down the hall; his eyes remained glued to how her hips sway slightly as she walks and he decides that this woman really is going to be the death of him. 

Upon entering their room, Amy lets go and unceremoniously rids the bed of its decorative cushions; Jake takes the fact that she’s willing to throw things on the floor as direct evidence that she wants – needs – this as much as he does. He quickly strips off his sweatpants, impatient to climb on to the bed to join his girlfriend, to kiss her and touch her again, impassioned and desperate. He heeds his instincts and soon Amy’s under him, thumbing at the hem of his grey t-shirt and reaching to pull it over his head. Jake slides her jeans off in retaliation, before unbuttoning the rest of her blouse and one-handedly lifting her back off the bed so he can gently take it off her and let it fall to the floor with the other remnants of their sudden passion.

Amy’s eyes, dilated with unbridled arousal, flutter shut as she tilts her head to the side to give him access to her neck; Jake immediately responds to her prompting by nuzzling into it and dropping heated kissed across her skin. When he reaches her collar bone, he leans back slightly to fully appreciate her black, lacy bra, and there’s a part of him – the part that was anxious that this whole affair would be awkward and unsynchronised like after Florida - that’s relieved that he recognises it because at least that means he’s well-practised in its unhooking. The bra is deftly tossed to the floor and Jake’s eyes dance in unmitigated awe at how beautiful she looks, how perfect his personal Aphrodite is (she taught him about Greek myths over dinner one night), now almost entirely naked under him. 

“Man, I’ve missed your boobs,” he confesses, and Amy smirks at the reverence in his voice. Jake mentally congratulates himself for not ruining the moment by mentioning his abstract mashed potato piece and, instead, starts on the real work of art in front of him. One hand cups her breast, soft and heavy in his palm, and his lips place enthusiastic kisses on the other, his beard still rough against her skin. He has the urge to kiss every part of her, to apologise to every part of her for putting her through the last two months, but before he knows it, a gentle tug on his hair causes him to look up from maybe one of his most favourite activities in the world.

“For the record,” Amy interrupts breathily, “I’ve missed your butt.” She slides her left hand under his boxers and gives a quick squeeze before lifting her leg to skilfully toe off his boxers.  
Her hand moves between their bodies and lightly strokes his hardening cock; Jake doesn’t think he can vocalise just how amazing her touch feels, how much he’s missed her, and so he elicits a soft groan into her chest instead. As much as he wants her to carry on, he knows that the steady stroke of Amy’s hand and his depleted stamina risk conspiring against him and embarrassingly ending all this within the next thirty seconds. He can’t have that – he’s been thinking about this for eight weeks, goddammit - he wants to _show_ her how much he missed her, he wants this to last as long as it possibly can.

Jake shifts his weight so that he’s out of Amy’s grip and hovering over her; he kisses her lips ardently, before trailing softer kisses down her jaw, her neck, her chest, her stomach. Amy lets out a contented sigh when she realises where this is going and a quiet moan when he pulls off her panties and starts kissing and sucking at her inner thighs, intent on leaving hickeys where only they could see. Right up there with kissing her boobs, going down on Amy ranks as one of Jake’s other favourite things to do in the entire world and he prides himself at being good at it; the way only he can make her writhe, and come apart, and forget all her anxieties.

“Touch me, Jake,” he hears her whine, partly in frustration but mostly in anticipation. 

He drops a final, teasing kiss to her thigh before moving his mouth to where she needs his touch and witnessing how wet she already is makes him impossibly more turned on. Her hand reaches for his hair to guide him – she’s a lady who always knows exactly what she wants – and then his tongue is gently flicking her clit and she breathes a satisfied moan. 

Jake continues softly, revelling in how good she tastes, licking her up and down in a steady motion. His right hand rubs her thigh in tandem with his strokes and he’s never heard a more beautiful symphony that her quiet moans of pleasure. He traces circles with his tongue around her, rhythmically building up her arousal, before suddenly sucking on her clit and the new pressure causes Amy’s composure to start to unravel, and she babbles mindless praise in its place.

“Mm, yes, Jake – right…right there,” she gasps.

Within minutes her hips start writhing and nudge upwards to grind against his touch, her back arching so that he knows she’s close. In response Jake removes his hand from her thigh and begins rubbing her clit with his thumb before his middle finger, then his index finger, enters her. It’s a move he knows she loves, and yep - she’s so consistent - it only takes another thirty seconds before she’s coming against his tongue, moaning loudly as he continues to guide her through her release.

Still holding her thighs, he looks up at her from between them; her hair is splayed across the pillow, and her face is suitably flushed, and she’s trying to regain her breath, and she’s beyond beautiful. “I’ve also missed doing that,” Jake grins, his mouth unashamedly tainted with her. He hoists himself over her body so that they’re eye level again, and all Amy can do is kiss him, hard, tasting herself and his unadulterated love for her on his lips.

“Babe – ah,” she starts, as he turns his attention to her neck again. “I forgot to mention earlier, I also bought a new pack of condoms when I went to the store.”

Jake lifts his head and raises a knowing eyebrow at her. “Well, there’s nothing sexier than using non-expired condoms.” 

Her left hand caresses his cheek as she grins back at him, “Oh, I love it when you talk dirty.” There’s a millisecond of silence as Jake leans into her touch slightly, and he knows from the look in her eyes that she’s not entirely joking, but then they’re bursting out laughing and Jake steals one last kiss from her smiling face before leaning over her and opening her nightstand drawer. Sure enough, there’s an unopened pack of condoms, and it’s his favourite brand no less – the fact that he’s now the kind of person that has a favourite brand is surely Amy’s conscientious influence – and next to it, he notices her vibrator not so subtly on display. He makes a quick mental note to ask her about its use while he was away later because a) that image is _hot_ and b) maybe she really did miss him, this, everything, as much as he did.

His thoughts are interrupted by Amy brandishing the condom from his hand and ripping it open with her teeth – _hot_ – and then she’s expertly rolling it down his length and giving him a few extra strokes for good measure because Amy Santiago is thorough in everything she does. She pulls him down by his neck for another heated kiss, before opening her eyes and nodding up at him with a small smile. Jake takes his cock with one hand to teasingly gather up her wetness and then he can’t take the build-up anymore, he’s sliding into her slowly, with just as much tenderness as when they first did this whole sexy-timez business sober. Jake can’t help but let out a low groan at the feeling, and Amy gasps a little at the stretch, and they’re finally, finally _together_.

“I love you, Ames,” Jake leans down so that their foreheads touch and he nuzzles her nose with his, angling for a kiss. 

“Mm, I love you too,” she murmurs against his mouth, one hand holding him close and the other raking her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

He remains still, letting her body gently re-familiarise itself with him, “You okay?” 

Amy looks up at him earnestly, with nothing but pure love in her eyes for him and for the care he’s taking. “Fuck me,” she whispers. 

He’s momentarily taken aback – he hardly ever hears her swear – but then his brain processes what his girlfriend just said and he groans an axiom that he’s known ever since he met her and kisses her hard, “Santiago, you’re so fucking hot.” 

And then he’s thrusting into her, slow at first but picking up the pace when her desperate moans encourage and direct him to do so. It feels so good, like home, like a million times better than his imagination ever played out, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been more in love with her than he is right now. 

Jake knows this won’t last as long as he wants it to - not with the only sounds filling the room being Amy’s soft moans and the sinful slapping of their skin - so he buries his face in her neck to stifle his own groans and continues to steadily thrust into her, letting himself just _feel._ It’s soon apparent that Amy’s not going to last long either as the grip of her legs around his thighs and of her fingers against the back of his head tightens and she all but whimpers in his ear, “Baby, I’m close.” 

At that, he finds the state of mind to pull out of her – Amy immediately whines at the loss – before gently nudging her to lie on her left side so that they’re spooning, pressed against each other, and he’s driving into her from behind. The new angle draws out an involuntary moan from Amy and after only a few thrusts she’s once again babbling mindless praise and encouragement - “Uh, uh, uh – harder,” - as her knuckles clutch at the bedsheets. Jake pushes in deeper and takes the opportunity to grasp at her boob, before letting his right hand trail down her stomach to between her legs, which earns him a lust-fuelled sigh of “Oh, god.” He rubs her clit, tenderly nursing and intensifying her arousal, and that’s what she needs, all she needs, to bring her even closer to the tipping point. 

She moans open-mouthed, her face pressed against her pillow, and the sight of her is just too much for him; he breathlessly tries to warn her against her neck, “Ames, I’m gonna, – I’m gonna come.” He continues to rub steadily at her clit as he pounds into her one – two – three more times, hard and desperate, and suddenly she’s coming, she’s clenching round him, her final, beautiful cry muffled by the pillow. The sheer intensity of her orgasm is enough to send Jake over the edge and with one last thrust he groans loudly and stills inside her, feeling the needed release spill out. 

They both collapse against each other panting and spent, trying to regulate their breaths, neither of them particularly wanting to move or part with each other. 

“Oh my god,” Jake manages, “that was awesome.” 

Amy turns her head to face him, to see the glazed look in his eyes, and, with her right hand, she awkwardly pulls him down for a soft kiss, “Super awesome.” 

He smiles at her and lets her shift so that she’s directly under him, and when both her arms wrap around his neck to pull him close and kiss him again more tenderly, he ever so gently starts to rock into her, in want of this moment to never end. They lie like that for a slow minute before Jake feels himself softening and Amy loosens her grip enough for him to slide out of her and move to knot the condom for its imminent disposal. He lifts up the quilt from the foot of the bed to cover their bodies – he knows that Amy will be complaining about the cold in no time – and reaches out his arm so that she can cuddle against his chest. 

Amy snuggles into him, a blissful smile on her face, and he starts mindlessly playing with her hair. “We still got it,” he muses, offering his free hand for a high five which she gladly accepts. 

“We still got it,” she confirms, before adding with a grin, “Title of our sex tape.” 

Yeah, he’s really home. 

**Author's Note:**

> this was my first time writing smut comments are greatly appreciated but please be kind and please do not tell my mother im going to hell  
> hmu @amysintiagos in the tumblr sin circle


End file.
